The Ripe Fig

Now that You live here in my chest,
anywhere we sit is a mountaintop.

What used to be pain is a lovely bench
where we can rest under the roses.

A left hand has become a right.
A dark wall, a window.

A cushion in a shoe heel,
the leader of the community!

Now silence. What we say
is poison to some
and nourishing to others.

What we say is a ripe fig,
but not every bird that flies
eats figs.”

Video By Castro

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By Castro, eroticism, film, food, mind body spirit, music, rumi, worshipLeave a Comment on The Ripe Fig

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